Cooking is the best when you can lick the bowl

Sunday, fluffy snow, old bananas, homework....the perfect ingredients for a banana bread day. Personalizing a foodtv.com recipe with converted and estimated ingredients didn't slow down progress and the end result was surprisingly edible. I think the fam was happy I decided to stretch my American cooking muscles, which is leaving me inspired to try again soon. Here is the view from the kitchen door...


Just kidding! The first picture is the winner.

Class and life are becoming more standard now and I don't feel so stressed out by the pressure of changing schedules and feeling tossed into the air. My University courses are not set in stone yet, but I hope it will be soon. Just as long as I can take vulcanology, I think I will be happy. Any class that has a portion described as "highly hazardous" is worth the effort and an obvious choice.

Is this thing allowing comments now? Perhaps not the best question to ask considering the mode of response....

J

Primo Pizza

The fam and I went our for pizza tonight, my first pizza since before I arrived. It was a place that served pizza Napolitano-style, which is supposed to be the best. It really was quite delish, though amazingly floppy (the crust had no strength to speak of). It is super cool how little things taste different...cherry tomatoes, cheese, Coke Light (diet), fries Napoli-style. The napkins felt like real cloth too. These little details are really quite exciting, but being with this family makes it really worth appreciating. Tonight, I sometimes really understood what the conversations all meant. We do tend to speak english a bit, but that is ok. It helps them to get to know me better and it is really good for the kids to hear it as well. I like being able to interpret some things for them. Rather than being frustrating, it is pretty funny to try and explain little differences or understand what the other is getting at. Paola is really helpful as well. It is nice that she can help me with my grammar as I speak. I am amazed by how welcoming they have been to me. It is really something that means a lot. It is so easy to become comfortable with people when they bring you in so readily. With some of the fresh snow outside the restaurant, the dad and son started a snowball fight with the rest of us. For whatever reason, seeing a grown man initiate a snowball fight just made the evening that much better. Since they can relax and be themselves around me, it is a lot easier to do the same with them.

Time is Pasta

To Italians, time isn't important when it comes to being punctual and cooking. Our bus to leave last night that would be "on the road by 5" probably didn't roll until 5:20. It did not matter how hungry we all were when we arrived at our destination. If we wanted to eat, we had to prepare first. Slowly. Easy Mac doesn't exist here. Even from the skilled, strong and old hands of these women, it doesn't come without lots of time. Paola told me the Italian word for these women. They are very, very skilled and each one does it a little bit different from the other. My program group (with Princeton tagalongs) clammored around a massive wood table, heavy with 4' rolling pins, brown eggs, flour, aprons, ricotta and others. One woman at the end demonstrated the flour and egg "volcano" that she started with to mix her ingredients. She stirred it, then kneeded it, then rolled it for ages until it was a thin sheet as soft and durable as linen. It was a long process...even longer for me. I was happy to volunteer but my hands hurt on the rolling pin and my volcano might have had a few mishap eruptions in the beginning. Francesca was my guru, giving me tips and support that mostly I didn't understand. She showed me how, and I did my best to do it just like her. The other old women around the table were helping the rest of the group, always repeating "forza, forza! Brava, brava!" It became a sort of epic, rolling pin battle as we all combated for space to spread out circles of dought that inevitable hung of the wood table in all directions. I was amazed to see it stay intact to the point where Francesca showed me how to cut it into tagliatelle. I know I need lots of practice, but I was happy to finish my pasta and pile it up onto the pan where they ran off with all our creations to the kitchen.

If we actually ate what we made, I would be surprised. For dinner we were served different types of pasta that appeared much more skillfully made than mine. It all tasted so much more substantial than what we eat out of a box, a totally different item. We sat for hours eating plates of prosciutto, formaggio di mucca and formagion di pecore, pane, dolce and drinking sparkling water and wine. Nothing seemed rushed and we all just sat around several big tables and talked about whatever we could.

It is easy to see that sort of mentality everywhere here. From my first glass of fresh squeezed OJ to the precise fences of brick or trees. It is a comforting mentality that emphasizes that life is worth appreciating. I wouldn't mind if people were more punctual, but I guess it is an all or nothing thing.

Last night we returned to Bologna from the villa after midnight. It was the first snowfall I had seen in Bologna and it was beautiful how it coated everything...except the road. I could have walked faster than our bus, but then again, should I really care how long it takes?

Fondu lunch

I am so amazed that Paola doesn't like meat! Bologna is such a meat-centric city, that is seems to be deep into the culture to have meat all the time. Lunch today was kinda like that. Her father and brother came over for lunch and it was probably the most exciting lunch I can remember. Everything was centered around two pots of hot oil and two plates brimming with meat; beef, chicken, sausage (salsicce?), mutton. There was bread, a bottle of wine, and chunks of cheese, all swarmed by a bustling, chatty family. What really cracks me up is the presence of ketchup at many meals. The youngest daughter loves the stuff, and saking her food in it. She must have a bit of American in her! It was quite fun to contribute to the swarm as best I could, but it was quite difficult for me to keep up with the conversation when it was coming from so many different directions. Once the chaos simmered down and the uncle didn't keep offering me so many pieces of oil-soaked goodness, the conversation became more manageable. Apparently this is the side of the family that runs the pasteiceria I mentioned before. It is like being in the presence of a Bolognese icon. We chatted about fondue and how in the US it is mostly chocolate and fruit at pricey coffee shops, risotto, Rockford and how big it is. I got to show them all Google earth of Rockford and Chicago and all the stomping grounds in Illinois. It was quite a good time and they really liked the pictures I had of the cows and dogs as well. The kids would really like one, but Paola doesn't...similar to any argument I had ever heard before. Mothers tend to be the sacrificial dog caretaker once the kids become too tired to let the dog out early in the morning....same routine. Besides all that fun, I had to write a 600 word essay for class. It really took forever and I am happy it is over. Frankly, if my grammar is awful, I don't care. It is done, and I wrote it in Italian. That should be good enough! Ci vediamo!

Unpacked and a full belly

So happy I was to get out of that hotel, and also nervous to ring the doorbell to my new family. Paola had such a welcoming smile on her face when she opened the door, that I couldn't be concerned after that moment. It was a day of struggling over phrases and a few blank stares, but it was really the best day I have had since I arrived. My room is wonderfully comfortable with my stuff finally in a resting place for a while. I developed a little shrine of pictures and cards over my dresser that really is the best. I am so happy I brought them, it really adds to the ambiance of natural light and pigeons cooeing in my windows. Strangely, I am not as well adjusted to the sounds of pigeons as I should be :)

Paola is very modest about how well she cooks, but she really shouldn't be. She asked if I wanted orange juice. A few minutes later, she presents to me a glass of the heartiest, fleshiest, ripest flavored orange juice I think I have ever had. No big, she just made it from oranges. Minutemaid could hire her. Later, was my first introduction to meal time. We (she) made fresh gnocchi for lunch (or il primo piatto) of lunch. We also had turkey and, get this, horse. They were all surprised to hear that it was illegal to slaughter horses back home. I can't say it is my favorite, but apparently it is full of iron, and I know mom will be happy to hear that.

After a bit of time to work on homework, they invited me down to tea. I had brought a gift when I arrived from the oldest pasticceria in Bologna. My group toured around it the day before, so I figured it could find me an appropriate gift. They suggested some fruitcake-type thing (but more chocolatey and delicious). Anyway, it was at the table for tea, and Paola told me how that pasticceria was run by her family. I was pretty impressed. I guess Boogna isn't that big, but that is still a pretty awesome coincidence.

The kids asked me to play Risiko, which prompted my only desire to have ever played Risk before that moment. If I had ever played before, it wouldn't have been such a mess of italian instructions coming from the mouths of kids who talk to fast and a father who was trying to keep it all together. Eventually I understood the instructions, but apparently now welll enough to keep the 8 year old girl from dominating the world, and certainly my (armate).

It was a draining day, but it left me with such optimism for the next few months. I really hope that it all works out and that I can stay here. They are such a nice family and I am happy they are letting me join them for just a while. Hopefully, by the end, I will be able contribute more than a blank stare and also a few good'ol American meals. For all my loved ones back at home, I will do my best to learn Paola's ways of the kitchen as well, you will love it if I can!

Week in review

It has been a week, with hardly any update. I spare you my stress and anguish in the present tense in favor of the past tense. It makes it easier to accept, and not so awkward to read :).

My first day in Bologna made me wonder why I didn't choose to stay in London. It is frustrating to feel defeated by something that you have wanted for so long, but the circumstance seemed overwhelming and certainly not worth the angst. Ha, that certainly sounds more dramatic than it actually is, but that is how life is. Speaking Italian was and still is difficult, and I hadn't really learned how to get around the city by speaking. Language barriers are terrible. It is the same as trying to tell a story by playing scrabble. Or at least, that is the sort of barrier that my Italian skills create. In addition to that and grammer homework (which is never consoling) the appartment search was on and furious. Each appartment was buried in a maze of crooked streets with changing names and incomprehensible directions. It was a great chance to walk a ton and learn the city, despite the dificulties. Now, I am happy that I had to, if only for the experience it gave me with the city and being persistent. Instead of an appartment, I have found a place with a family. My room would be free, in exchange for my english speaking. They have two children with whom I willspeak to in english part of the time. It could be a great chance for us all to learn from eachother. I really hope it works out in the long run! Tomorrow I move in, and it all begins. My hope is for my stress to go down and my intrigue to only increase. Every day I see something I didn't expect. Bologna is an incredibly dynamic city with plenty to experience. One day at a time :)

I will post the London pictures once my internet stops being glitchy, but there should be videos on youtube too. I think if you search jwaldsm2 in the searchbar, you will find my videos.

Do I like this city?

Foggy night, foggy day. With a few days inbetween, my whole perspective changed. Tonight was really beautiful. The city is unique at the biggest scale to the smallest. What is interesting is the contrast between the old and new and how the blend of time is really seamless. I saw my first cobbled street today and had an amaretto sour in a trendy place for dinner...or snackes at least. One great thing is that once you start walking, you don't want to stop. There will be a street that goes off around a bend (because everything bends) and it is just so inticing. The graffitti on the colored walls was a bit disheartening the first day, bt I just hadn't wandered far enough. There are arches over all the pathways and many of the streets are incredibly narrow and shared by cars, motorcycles and people alike. It feels like one of those car commercials where there is a shiny, black car (of some fancy type) zipping through narrow streets with their advanced handling systems as the old painted brick vaults overhead to flowered balconies. It is like being there sometimes. Not always, but I like the feeling when I get it. Makes me want to look around to see if there is a camera nearby.

Too tired to go into more details beyond car commercials, but I want to let you know that I made a youtube channel that has my curacao videos on it. If you are interested.... They aren't organized or tagged, but if you search jwaldsm2, you should find it.

Willemstad-Rockford-London-Bologna

My total number of flights for the last ten days is 6. Flying is really fun and every time I take off, I try and do a countdown to see if the plane will take off right when I land on "zero" or "take-off", but I always jump the gun and have to start adding in fractions. In Curacao, I was never on a computer long enough to update, though I really wish this wasn't the case. Everyday was something absolutely beautiful. Does anyone in the midwest remember that feeling of sleeping so comfortably under just one sheet? How about looking through goggles at just the right point where you can see the line the top of the water makes with the air. Feeling the wind 400m above the earth is cool too, especially when there are fossils in the rocks that you are using to anchor yourself on. More than that, it was great being able to do all these great things with my friends. It takes a very unique group to make dances and sing about a special banana (or twinkie) colored van. For all these reasons, as well as the color, warmth and novelty of a new place, Curacao was unforgetable. I will leave the details to the photos, because laundry listing a good time is not a good time.

With freckles on my face, and only 12 hours, I repacked and said goodbye. Rockford might not be the most glorious of cities, but it is my home and saying goodbye was hard. Mostly for those who live there....and the occasional visitor that I really love :).

Seven hours in the air didn't feel like too long, but perhaps I fell asleep and I didn't realize it. British Airways people are so nice! Maybe it is the accent. That helps a lot. One thing I realized on that flight was how much I love the world from above. Every light shines up and is blanked by a cloud. It was beautiful to see patches of light under the clouds, and when they were gone, I knew it had to be the Atlantic. Never been there before!

Exhausted in London, I checked my time frame and opted to head for the city. I always say that I would rather spend my money on things than experiences so I tried to practice what I preach. For the cost of storing my bags and a day train pass, I got to see London...and order an Ale. I told Whitney I would! I've attached a heap of pictures from that too. Lots of the time I didn't know where I was or what I was looking at, but those are details I can discover next time I go.

So, onto Bologna. My plane was full, mostly with Italian speakers and empty seats. As tired as I was, it wasn't very good to hear Italian. Mostly, it was daunting and the reality was hitting me harder than it had before. All those times when my plans didn't work and now here I was. I tend to overdramatize. I realize lots of things on plane rides. Mostly I slept, though not more rested once I hit the ground. In the taxi, I was able to converse with the driver a bit as he brought me around Bologna and to my hotel. Settling in didn't take long, then I slept for 12 hours...long overdue. Today, I felt a bit better when I woke up. I tried to mee tmy new city and find some places to live and it was hard to be honest. It wasn't like anywhere else I had ever seen. The streets are different, and that is all I saw. I am looking forward to taking a more extensive walking tour once my feet and legs and back feel strong again. Still tired, I called a few of those places and struggled through a few sentences. Tomorrow, a new day. Several of the kids in the program are talking about visiting Florence or Venice by the weekend. What do you think? There is enough here to keep me occupied, for now at least.

Suitcases and travel size zhampoo

Today was a day of meticulous organizing, hasty tossing and errands. There is still more packing to complete for tomorrow, but with three suitcases, a backpack and a pile of extraneous necessities I can't be too disappointed with my progress. Everything is so bittersweet. Going to new places is what I always want to do, but leaving some of my favorites behind is never what I prefer. Packing serves as a wonderful distraction though to clear the mind. So much thought about what shoes will make the cut overrides the pain of an achy heart if only for a while. If only my Skype account would work just right. Being able to see a person is just brilliant compared to hearing only a voice and choppy images and dropped calls don't really suffice. While still home, I hope to make the best of it. Mom says she will make anything I want for dinner tomorrow, and of all the wonderful things she makes, I still sort of just want her to make pancakes. It isn't like pancakes are the most wonderful food or anything, they just make me feel good inside, like how a Saturday morning with the family feels good inside. Perhaps it is some sort of Pavlovian response I have to pancake batter. Bisquick = Happy family thoughts. Perhaps not. That theory will never get published anyhow.